James Rollins - The Judas Strain

At thirty he risked a fast peek. An inferno greeted him.

But through the pain he spied an outflung arm. A step away. He took that step, bent down, and grabbed the arm. Luckily she no longer glowed, no longer burned. Still, he could not pick her up. He retreated, dragging her. The tarp tangled his feet, slowing him down. He finally tossed it aside, taking one breath before he did so.

It dropped him to a knee.

His chest clenched, his throat closed in protest.

Swallowing flames.

He pushed up, dragging blind, stumbling, hurrying.

His skin ran with fire, as if lashed with steel-studded whips.

Not going to make it .

Fire.

Flame.

Burn.

He tripped, went down to a knee.

No .

Then he was rising again — but not on his own.

“I’ve got you,” she said in his ear.

Seichan.

She had an arm under him, dragging him bodily. His toes scraped the stones as he struggled to gain his footing.

He croaked at her, coughing.

She understood.

“Kowalski’s got her.”

“Right here, boss,” the man said behind him. “That was some run. Made it to three steps shy of the goal line. Not a touchdown, but that’s why you have a goddamn team.”

As they fled around the lake, away from the central tempest, Gray’s vision cleared. He finally found his feet.

Seichan still supported half his weight.

“Thank you,” he whispered coarsely in her ear.

Her cheek was badly blistered, one eye swollen shut.

“Let’s just get the hell out of here,” Seichan said, sounding more irritated than relieved.

“Amen, sister,” Kowalski said.

Gray glanced back to the pool. He watched something drop through the hole in the roof, dangling from a line like a baited hook. It swung back and forth a bit.

A thick, heavy satchel.

“Bomb…” Gray whispered.

“What?” Kowalski asked, incredulous.

“Bomb,” he said louder.

Nasser was not done with them yet.

“Aw, hell, no…” Kowalski scrambled closer with Susan over one shoulder, plainly trying to outrun them. “Why do people keep trying to blow me up?”

Shouting erupted below, flowing up the stairs from the cavern.

Lisa wanted to go down. She had hated abandoning the others, but Vigor needed her help, too.

“Keep turning!” Vigor said, sweat pouring down the sides of his face. He glanced to the stairs — then back to Lisa. “From their shouting, I think we’d better hurry.”

Between their palms, they had been unscrewing a large bronze bolt. Its platter-size head bore a crucifix, presently twirling as they spun the screw. By now, the greased bore protruded a full two feet from the arched top of the door.

How much more did they have to go?

They turned faster.

Vigor quoted the bottom inscription on the door, huffing as he labored.

“‘An angel of the Lord descended from the sky, and came and rolled away the stone from the door.’ At first, I tried rolling the door itself, and gave that up pretty quickly. Then I remembered the last line. ‘Let only one strong in the spirit of the Lord dare open it.’ Plainly a nod toward the crucifix. I should’ve picked up on that from the outset.”

Feet pounded on the lower stairs, coming up.

Kowalski yelled to them. “Bomb…door…hurry!”

“A man of few words, our Mr. Kowalski.”

With a final twist, the bronze screw fell free of its socket. The weight caught them both by surprise, and the screw tumbled to the steps with a ringing clatter.

Kowalski came barreling up from below, carrying Susan. She hung limp. Kowalski’s face sank when he saw the door still closed. “What have you been doing?”

“Waiting for you,” Vigor said, and shoved the slab.

No longer screwed tight, the door toppled outward, crashing to the stone. Sunlight burst forth, reflecting off the stone all around. Lisa could barely see as she stumbled out with Vigor, making room for Kowalski and Susan.

Kowalski groused as he ducked through. “I thought Seichan said she tried pushing. Damn those scrawny arms of hers.”

Straightening, Lisa blinked away the glare, realizing that they were at the bottom of a deep stone well, ten feet wide. The sheer walls stretched two stories high. No way up.

Kowalski lowered Susan to one side of the door. “Doc, I don’t think she’s breathing.”

Reminded of her duty, Lisa rushed to his side. She’d had her fill of death for one day. She dropped beside Susan and checked for a pulse. She didn’t find one. Still, Lisa refused to give up.

“Someone help me,” she called.

Gray and Seichan fell through the door next, hobbling together. Gray noted her examination. “Lisa…she’s dead.”

“No. Not without a fight first.”

“I’ll help you,” Seichan mumbled.

As she hobbled over, Lisa noticed blood seeping through the woman’s blouse, through her pants, fresh and wet.

Seichan noted her attention. “I’m fine.”

Gray warned them to keep as quiet as possible — in case any of Nasser’s men were nearby. He also waved everyone away from the doorway. His face and arms were blistered and raw. The whites of his eyes were a solid blood red.

On the other side of the doorway, Lisa began cardiac compressions while Seichan performed mouth-to-mouth. Vigor stood nearby, crossing a blessing over Susan.

“Those better not be last rites,” Lisa whispered, keeping her elbows locked as she compressed.

Vigor shook his head. “Just a prayer for—”

The bomb blasted with a clap of thunder, shuddering the ground underfoot. A wash of foul air shot out from below, a poisonous exhalation still ripe with caustic fumes and a blast of heat.

Lisa leaned over Susan.

The worst of it all plumed up the shaft and away.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Kowalski said.

Gray continued staring high. “Everybody hold tight.”

Lisa glanced up as she pumped her arms on Susan’s chest.

To the left, the top half of the Bayon’s center spire could be seen. Stone faces gazed back down at them. All of them were shaking.

“It’s coming down!” Gray said.

Nasser fled with six of his men, racing across the second tier’s courtyard. Every step was agony. His entire body continued to burn, as if the hellish woman were still clutched to him. But he had a more immediate concern.

He glanced back as he ducked behind a gallery wall.

The Bayon tower trembled — then in an oddly slow fashion, it collapsed in on itself, imploding and dropping a quarter of its height with a rumble of stone. The death rattle of a hundred bodhisattvas. Stone dust flumed around the collapsed pile, shooting high. More rocks continued to bounce and roll, chattering down the mountainside.

His demolition expert had warned against the size of the charge, warned this might happen. But Nasser could not risk Commander Pierce escaping with the prize.

As he turned away he noted a second plume of smoky dust, rising off to the side. It twisted up like a gray smoke signal.

Nasser’s eyes narrowed.

Did it mark another exit to the cavern?

Gray choked on the dust, barely able to see anyone else in the confined space of the well. The tower had crashed, collapsing into its foundations and crushing the cavern below. An acidic wash of smoke and dust jetted outward, spiraling up the well’s throat.

Gray wiped his eyes and twisted around. He searched back through the doorway. Boulders filled the steep stairway, its ceiling collapsed.

Gray leaned his shoulder against the wall and stared up. The north wall of the well leaned precariously outward. They’d been lucky it hadn’t collapsed and crushed them all. A few of the blocks stuck out like buckteeth.